


7 Minutes

by Scribbles97



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 02:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13871082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribbles97/pseuds/Scribbles97
Summary: Seven minutes was how long Gordon could hold his breath for.





	7 Minutes

Seven minutes was how long Gordon could hold his breath for, it was a well known fact among the family. 

 

_ It’s only been two _ , Scott told himself as he ran. He had been on the other side of the dock when the comms had gone down, and he’d been heading  _ away  _ from the rest of them. Two minutes was a lot of lost time to make up for. 

 

John had said from a glimpse he got from Gordon’s camera feed, it had been the Hood. Scott wasn’t sure whether to be angry or scared. Never had the Hood threatened them in such a way, only the Mechanic had ever endangered their lives. 

_ The Hood controlled the Mechanic _ , He reminded himself,  _ How much of the Mechanics actions were a result of the Hoods doing? _

He knew he didn’t have time to stop at the roar of engines above him, but he couldn’t just ignore them.

“The Hood’s getting away.”

“Everyone’s busy with the rescue,” John responded without missing a beat, “We’ll have to let him go this time.”

 

He didn’t turn to watch the ship go, despite the want to turn and glare. Gordon still wasn’t answering comms though, and time was counting down. 

“Mark my words, I’ll get him for this.” He growled, catching himself on a post as he went to round a corner, stopping him from slipping on the slick wood. There wasn’t time for him to slip. On a good day, on a flat surface, when he hadn’t already been subject to the strains of a rescue, he could make the distance in no time. 

The planks of the dock seemed to stretch out in front of him forever, the distance never shortening as he ran. It felt like his nightmares come to life -- a little brother, nearby but just too far to reach and him always getting there a moment too late. 

 

If it had been any other day, the sight of Gordon’s helmet on the dock might not have bothered Scott so much. Some days it might have been enough to make him pause, others he might have simply shrugged and trusted Gordon to know what he was doing. 

Gordon always knew what he was doing when it came to water.

Except this hadn’t been planned. From what John had said this hadn’t been a controlled dive of Gordon’s choosing. 

So, the sight of Gordon’s helmet had him running faster, pushing himself harder until he reached the edge of the dock and kept going. 

 

Gordon would have said the dive was sloppy, that he was too straight and didn’t rotate enough in those few seconds of falling through the air. 

Scott was too tense to think about how to dive properly though, already thinking ahead to where Gordon might be in the water. For a moment he forgot about his own helmet, too busy thinking about how peaceful everything seemed. 

“Straight ahead Scott.” John snapped in his ear, “You’ve got a minute.”

Of course, neither of them voiced the thought in their heads. Neither wanted to acknowledge that they were on a seven minute limit assuming Gordon was conscious. 

Still, Scott pushed forward, straining to see further than he could in the darkening gloom. 

“I don’t see him.” 

John’s silence was of little comfort, what use were eyes in the sky if he couldn’t see  _ exactly _ where their little brother was? 

 

A burst of static filled the line, making Scott pull himself back with a wince, 

“Not helpful John,” He muttered, righting himself to swim forward again. 

“Not me,” John responded, “That was Gordon’s frequency.”

Scott winced at another burst of static, but didn’t pull back as he searched the depths for just a flash of yellow. He knew he was out of time, but he still had to look. 

 

Then it caught his eye, the faintest of light from below him in the most familiar of shapes. Another burst of static filled his ears as he pushed himself down, 

“It’s Gordon,” He confirmed to whoever was listening, “he’s using his sash to signal me.”

“F.A.B.” 

 

He pushed through the water, wishing he was as fast and graceful in the depths as Gordon always seemed to be. For a moment his worry had dissipated, the signal of Gordon being alive enough to keep him going. When the  _ IR _ light faded and didn’t relight, the worry settled back twice as heavy. 

It was a small relief when he reached him, it was only then he realised there were metal bars separating him from his brother. 

“Shark cage.” He uttered, reaching through to grasp Gordon’s arm, tugging to try and get his attention. A small flicker of red eyes was all the response he got as he braced himself against the bars, aiming a solid kick at the padlock. He knew he didn’t have much option, other than to keep kicking until it gave, all the while aware of Gordon’s still form next to him. 

It seemed wrong, Gordon, still, underwater. There were few times that Gordon ever stopped when he was in the water, it scared Scott to think that he’d never seen him so still in the ocean. 

 

A rush of anger surged through him at the reminder. The Hood had done it. Forced his baby brother into a cage and dumped him in the water. 

He kicked out again, a solid hit against the padlock as it finally gave way and floated to the sand of the ocean floor. He didn’t think twice about pulling the cage open and grabbing Gordon. There wasn’t time to consider how fast to go up and the risks if the ascended too quickly, they weren’t that deep anyway. 

 

He wasn’t sure how long over seven minutes they had been, but he knew it had been too long. Gordon should have been kicking next to him, helping their movement towards the surface. He shouldn’t have been a dead weight, limp and unmoving. 

The edge of the dock was visible through the surface, three blurred figures stood waiting. A cloud of fizz distorted the view as someone jumped in, quick to dive down and help them resurface. Scott didn’t argue as they broke the water directly next to the dock and a hand immediately reached for Gordon’s shoulder, dragging him all too easily up. 

 

By the time Scott had pulled himself up, he could hear Gordon gasping for breath, hunched over on his side. Scott fell back next to him, adrenaline finally dying in his veins. As ever, Gordon’s grin was bright and cheeky as he swallowed, 

“So,what’s my new record for holding my breath?”

“Nine minutes.” John responded. 

Scott shook his head at Gordon, clipping off his helmet to hide the slow breath he needed to take. Gordon was alive. He was probably not okay, but for a minute he could at least pretend. 

He forced his smile, hoping it looked more natural than it felt, 

“Doesn’t count when you’re drowning.” 


End file.
